


your love, as well as your folly

by IronCladFeatherFeet (handschuhmaus)



Category: Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno
Genre: (now I finally know what that means), Angst and Porn, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, I mean this isn't a dead dove but, Internalized Misogyny, Masturbation, Voyeurism, a patriarchal society and rebellion against it, wittolry kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 19:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19302043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/IronCladFeatherFeet
Summary: title's from Mumford & Sons "White Blank Page", which Adsecula/pileofsith recommended as a song for their sonI have a boatload of issues and, it turns out, some strange kinks!uhh be forewarned that this involves world-building a despicably patriarchal [historical] society (prizing virginity/virility duality!womenare for childbearing and can't experience sexual pleasure...) and then someone well invested in the power it gives him running up against the ideologically forbidden actualities and then internal conflict with finding them hot and wanting to change his worldview to accommodate that but also y'know, being strongly invested in his preexisting one... actually, that's exactly and wholly what this is, except withmoresex... X/





	your love, as well as your folly

**Author's Note:**

> title's from Mumford & Sons "White Blank Page", which Adsecula/pileofsith recommended as a song for their son
> 
> ~~I have a boatload of issues and, it turns out, some strange kinks!~~
> 
> uhh be forewarned that this involves world-building a despicably patriarchal [historical] society (prizing virginity/virility duality! _women_ are for childbearing and can't experience sexual pleasure...) and then someone well invested in the power it gives him running up against the ideologically forbidden actualities and then internal conflict with finding them hot and wanting to change his worldview to accommodate that but also y'know, being strongly invested in his preexisting one... actually, that's exactly and wholly what this is, except with _more_ sex... X/

It's a stolen glimpse into something that's not supposed to be happening, and a hint of the smell of his wife's arousal wafts through the door and further twists the hot pit of his belly.

It doesn't matter where he starts, with trying to reason for it. 

He should be satisfying her sufficient to avoid such urges? _A woman, having urges?_ Any man he knew would scoff, including a few she slept with, once or twice, before their marriage.

She shouldn't be ...masturbating? (and a lazy thrill sparks through his abdomen to his loins at that strictly factual but taboo description) Well, how was he going to stop her? Strangely, the notion of her touching herself in no way impels him to intervene, and perhaps try to ...help her get off (which is no better a notion, but doubles that spark of arousal); rather it makes _him_ want a good wank. Which he would never do in front of her, even if he suspects she'd ...respond in kind, giving him an intentional show. It simply isn't done.

Practically speaking, Cosinga Palpatine would hazard all his bets on Amara trying to divorce him, if he manned up and did his proper duties (stopped with this perverted nonsense of thinking of her and any possible journey from slick and wet and _wanting_ to lazy, debauched, pleasured fulfillment as better fuel for arousal than the best porn he'd ever seen) and made her stop indulging that impossible, unladylike libido. 

It's not even that she asks him for intercourse, because that isn't done, either. But in the household rhythms of routine, when he hates the fact that his own sexual desires have found a nexus in _his own wife_ , who is meant only for good honest childbearing, not the thoughts of fruitlessly _darting his tongue around her vulva and lapping at that nub of a hood she seems habitually to favor so well with her own fingers, until she moans with delight 1 _\--it's hard to miss certain little signs, and the scent of sex on her underwear.

The birth of Sheev had only made his perversions worse, because he had just _known_ he was that lowest of men, the cuckold, and also, whatever strange fits of alchemy pregnancy performed, Amara had wanted sex more than ever, at pinnacles of horny he had only seen before in his friends when he was a teenager, which he didn't dare try to help with because harassing your pregnant wife for sex was horrible, and acknowledging her libido no better. But mostly, this had made him confront the fact that he was capable of the worst perversity: having an absolutely exquisite wet dream of his pregnant wife being thoroughly wrecked with pleasure by another man, while he watched and _enjoyed_ the sight. For better than a week the thought confronted him constantly; it was the only thing he even wanted to wank to, and he dearly wanted to, and had, but he could never tell anyone he had conceived of the idea, least of all Amara.

No matter how much she wanted to, no matter how logical the idea might sound of his giving her permission, considering his body and intractable mind did the exact opposite of object to the idea, it would be madness and a vile crime against his wife's honor to ever give her to another man. 

Knowing that he is this wretched and debauched, unfulfilled for all that he enjoys her sweet, adept mouth on his cock as much as he wants, it's a wonder he's settled down enough now that catching her caught up by desire is enough to ensnare him and bring him up quite _hard_. 

(And then the boy had the nerve to be of his own seed, his should-be proper heir, no sort of justification for his father's epiphany of depravity.)

But, as he noted before, it's not a fantasy of her blowing him, or even, sensible if improprietous, going in to ...assist.

No, she spreads her legs, one foot propped up against wall, and dips her fingers into the slick of fluid evoked by desire and tugs at the bits of the hood that hang downward, the ones he sometimes thinks he'd catch between tongue and teeth (like her lips if he dared kiss that violently) and tease until she was on the verge of overstimulated and demanding he give her more. That is, if he were the sort of undignified animal who would try to drive his wife into hysteria. 

He grasps himself, leisurely strokes. This will be pointless, he'll spill his semen over himself just because he is a fool who cannot resist the idea of, the sight of, his wife (who properly shouldn't be) aroused and then pleased. 

Amara moves upward, to the peak of what she has been so--surely!--pleasantly worrying, and draws the pads of her fingers over it again and again, and presses into herself and at once he both wonders just how it feels and thinks that she could probably tease him this way into, so uselessly, ejaculating untouched, on the fantasy of his wife's favored friction and pressure. 

Which is not what he's doing just now; he thumbs the sensitive tip of his cock and runs his fingers lightly, tantalizingly, over the shaft of it, trying and failing to keep at a rhythm with his wife. 

And then she penetrates herself with fingers glossed in her own wetness, and his mind floats back, time (perhaps minutes) blurring in passing, into the thought of other things inside her--his tongue, and oh, the dream-lover's cock, a thought that, to his shame and dread brings him to the brink of climax, though not one of jealousy. 

Amara withdraws her fingers from within and palms the whole region of her body, rutting up against her hand in yet another strategy.

Now his fingers are not quite purposefully all over his length, with little intent. She could probably do this all day and he'd be enraptured by her delight and--

Ejaculate bursts suddenly from him and two meters away Amara is hazy with delight at her own pleasure, so damnably compelling.

He'll stop being, or at least acting, the pervert so much one of these days, if he can muster the resolve. He'll pay vigorous and strictly proper attentions to a mistress and reserve Amara only for good marital intercourse for children. But it doesn't help that she looks most and so worthy of desire now.

(and does she know what he's doing? Even if she does, they're not going to talk about it. He would never admit to such transgressions of desire, nor that he knows full well his wife _enjoys_ sex, as they say only a man can...)

* * *

1: (delight he's seen but everyone has told him is impossible) ^


End file.
